


Into Every Hunter's Life, a Little Snow Must Fall

by Untherius



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5527727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of any Witch Hunter consists of long periods of boredom interspersed with short periods of terror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into Every Hunter's Life, a Little Snow Must Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/gifts).



Hansel gingerly laid another twig over the others. A tiny, infantile flame licked at it from the cluster of pine needles arranged on a palm-sized slab of bark. He watched in satisfaction as that evening's cooking fire began to take form.

He barely remembered his first attempts at kindling a fire. Then again, most of his boyhood memories were highly fragmented. Mostly, he recalled failing miserably and then being swatted for it. Just like most everything else in life both before and since, he'd had to learn that the hard way. Which generally meant a great deal of experimentation, because damned if his father was going to actually show him anything.

The first of the smaller twigs caught, then spluttered. With well-practiced ease, he sprinkled a few more pine needles, then shoved an old pine cone into the flame. That caught. Before long, a few of the larger sticks crackled in a strong flame. He smiled.

Snow swished behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. It was more of a reflex. He knew his sister was back there laying out their warding perimeter. But it never hurt to check.

“There,” said Gretel, a tone of self-satisfaction in he voice.

Hansel grunted in response. Not much was necessary in the way of discussion. Their well-established routine didn't require it.

He put another large stick onto the fire, then grabbed the rabbit Gretel had shot and drained earlier. A few deft knife cuts later, he impaled the organ meats onto small sticks of their own and shoved their butt ends into the snow beside the fire. He skinned the rabbit, then shoved that onto a sharpened stick to cook.

After placing a few more sticks onto the fire, he picked up the remaining viscera, then stepped over the warding circle, careful not to disturb anything.

Some might have accused him of being a warlock and Gretel a witch. Never mind that the two of them hunted such depraved people. But they knew what was out there in the dark. It might not find them tonight, or the next, or the next. Sooner or later, though, they were bound to cross paths with the things that went bump in the night. Hence the warding circle.

He tossed the scant viscera out into the woods, then scrubbed his hands clean with snow, the sharp bits of ice scraping his skin until it was nearly numb.

The fire, in addition to cooking and warming, also tended to deter the wildlife. All except the two-legged variety. Despite the general fear most people had of wolves, they weren't all that dangerous, if one understood them. People, on the other hand, were another thing altogether.

Gretel had already unbundled the oiled canvas ground cloth and the fleece bedding. Their woolen blankets still sat rolled up in the middle.

Hansel checked the organ meats, rotating the skewers a little. The kidneys were coming along nicely. The liver and heart wouldn't be far behind. They'd make for a good appetizer.

Gretel squatted down and sighed. “Please tell me we're having more than just one rabbit between us.”

Hansel shrugged. “You shot it. It's...”

“Don't say it,” she interrupted.

He smiled. “This, or go hungry,” he finished, then chuckled. Of course they had more. But stretching and rationing one's food was a deeply-ingrained habit.

Gretel grunted. “You sure that stuff...” She nodded toward the gathering gloom. “...won't attract a wolf?”

“If it does, you'll shoot it, right?”

“I suppose.”

His smile spread into a feral grin.

She shook her head. “Uh-uh. No. Don't even think it.”

“To late.”

“Hansel, sometimes you think too much with your stomach.”

“Never think while you're eating.”

A little while later, they split the organ meats, then the rest of the rabbit. It had a surprising amount of meat on it for so late in winter. That meant they could stretch the provisions they'd acquired as partial payment for their last job. The rabbit, a bannock and a turnip each, and a few swallows of mead completed their evening meal.

By the time Hansel crawled under the blanket beside his sister, his stomach was...well, not full, but at least not gnawing at him.

* * *

Hansel awoke to the morning sun spearing him in the eyes. The warm body behind him was missing. He groaned. One of these days, he hoped to have a wife for that. Sure, Gretel kept him from freezing at night, but she was, well, his sister.

Gretel sighed, and shook her head slowly. No further words were needed.

“You could have nudged me in the ribs,” he croaked.

“And miss an opportunity to jest with you about your sleeping habits?” she teased. “Never.”

Hansel clambered to his feet, pulled on his boots, then went to take care of business. On the way back, he collected the warding objects from the circle and returned them to the small cloth pouch where they lived during the day. Gretel had packed up the bedding already.

They ate a cold breakfast of sweetmeats and hard cheese while they walked. The snow crunched beneath their feet. Hansel was glad of the firm surface of late-season snow. Several weeks of traveling across Europe had taught him and Gretel how to walk with flexed knees. The first time he'd post-holed, it had almost ruined his knee. It was still a risk. And it slowed them down.

Which annoyed Hansel. There were few things he resented more than delays while on the trail of his quarry. And this one was dangerous indeed. Or so he'd been told by the people who'd hired them.

There was some confusion about that. The person they sought was called 'vukodlak.' It was apparently neither a name, nor a title. Even more confusing, the word seemed to have three different meanings.

The first meaning was 'witch.' That, of course, was his and Gretel's specialty. The second was what he'd been forced to interpret as 'werewolf.' He had little idea what to think about that. The third was 'vampire.' That last had a very slippery meaning by itself, which none of the locals he'd queried had been able to elucidate. His translator had not been terribly forthcoming about which one applied.

And so it was that Hansel and Gretel found themselves standing in the cold, foreboding Carpathian Mountains, staring up at an imposing castle built on a ridge-top, its battlements silhouetted against a slate sky. A light dusting of snow began to fall.

Hansel exchanged a glance with Gretel. He saw the anticipation in her eyes. This vukodlac was reputed to be very dangerous. But if they survived their encounter, they just might be able to retire to some island in the Aegean.  
“Well,” he said, “best be getting on with it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Admittedly, it's been a while since I've seen the movie. I therefore apologize for any backstory errors.


End file.
